


The Boleyn Bastard

by Techne



Series: The Boleyn Bastard [1]
Category: 16th Century CE RPF, The Other Boleyn Girl - Philippa Gregory, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canonical Character Death, Church of England, Drama, England (Country), Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Gore, History, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Techne/pseuds/Techne
Summary: Thomas, bastard of the Earl of Wiltshire, was orphaned at birth and taken in by a sheepherder who raised him in York. Twenty years later, a messenger carrying the seal of the House of Boleyn arrives at the farm, revealing his noble birth and inviting him to join his family at court. Marveling at the luxurious court, his father's recognition soon comes to light and Thomas discovers the true reason behind everything when he is tasked with seducing the King's daughter, Lady Mary and sway her support to align with the Boleyn's.





	The Boleyn Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning some time before the execution of Anne Boleyn, our story follows the exploits of a fictional Thomas Boleyn the Younger and his involvement in what would eventually lead to the ruin of the Boleyn Family. I plan to be more historically accurate than what the show was with some things, so please do expect it to slightly be different from the TV series.

Mornings had always been troublesome for him, having to get up at dawn and tend to the sheep bored him to death. Staying up late the previous night did not help matters either, visiting taverns with friends and returning home to finish up tasks that had been neglected during the day. It had almost been dawn before he was finished. His father often scolded him for it, reminding him that he was a simple farmer and neglecting his livelihood was the first step towards ruin. The time of being a child was long over, he was a man now and needed to start acting like it. Knowing that he was right, he would simply nod his head in agreement and put himself towards the tasks that needed to be completed.

Their farm was just on the outskirts of town, settled on a hill that overlooked the countryside and gave a pretty good view. As far as the eye could see, the great town of York blossomed in the early morning. Merchants could be heard shouting, cows crying out and the bells of the church echoing all across the realm to awake those of the faith. Thomas very much liked to think that those bells didn't reach across the realm. Although his education was minimal, he knew very little outside of York. But, he knew there had to be more. There just had to be. He very much wished to see it all one day. However, he also knew that perhaps a man couldn't see all of the other countries in a single life.

Standing at the entrance to the house, he stared out at the sun as it began to rise over the trees. A mixture of reds, purples and blues painted the sky. Running a hand through his hair, he stretched his limbs and yawned, already wishing for night to fall once more. Foolhearty as it was, he instead turned his thoughts towards breakfast. In the small room that served as their kitchen, Thomas could smell fresh cooked sausages and eggs that sizzled. His father was already eating, leaning over a plate and chewing on a thick piece of meat. Thomas sat down in front of him, picking up his own fork and began eating. He wasted little time in enjoyment, knowing that the earlier he got to work, the sooner it would be night and he could go to the tavern with his friends.

 _I imagine father will probably want me to do some chores in town_ , he thought as he bit into a thick sausage.

Often times his father would go into town himself and leave Thomas behind to do all of the chores. However, Jonathan was becoming old.

From his spot at the table, Jonathan watched his son with a watchful eye. The boy was a slacker, nothing like him when he'd been his age and knew not the honor of a day's hard work. Instead, he'd rather be out drinking with his friends and chasing after girls that he knew he could not have. Often times, Jonathan wondered if his son was the right one to take over the farm when he could no longer work. A tempting offer by his neighbor had been made, it would keep him decently looked after for the remainder of his days.

“If you think I didn’t hear you slouching in last night after drinking at the tavern, you’re a bigger fool than I thought,” His father didn’t even look up, casually speaking as if it were a normal thing. Sadly, it was. “Perhaps if you put as much work into working at you do drinking with your friends, you might actually have found a wife by now and have children of your own.”

It was an argument as old as he was.

Thomas did not wish to marry, at least, not yet.

While his father was content with the life of a simple father, Thomas had always wanted to become more than that.

Growing up, he’d always been fascinated by the forges and wished to become a blacksmith. Such renown would bring him great wealth, rising out of poverty, being called on by both kings and knights alike to make magnificent weapons for them. Of course, his father was against it. He thought that it was more important to feed people, that there was no guarantee that he would even be good at ironwork and should focus on what he did know, farming. It angered him, but he would never disrespect the man who had taken him in off the streets.

There was no way of telling him different, however. “I don’t want to get married,” He said as he ate the last of the sausage. None of the women in town wanted to marry him. They were more interested in chasing after the sons of lords and clergymen, none of which they would ever get. “No one wants to marry a farmer, father.”

“Nonsense.”

Dark eyes peered at him incredulously. His hair, grey and balding, was cut short on the sides and groomed so that it did not bother him. His age showed, thick muscles and callous hands, all the signs of a field hand who had worked all of his life.

“I need to get to work,” His father stood up, licking his fingers. “Our fence needs to be repaired after last nights storm and I’ll have to head into town to get the nails.”

“I could do that for you.”

Stopping what he was doing, he looked at his son and knew that there was something he did not like about that. Usually, his son was very passionate about avoiding any tasks given to him outside of his duties to the farm. He asked, “And what exactly do you have to do in town?”

Thomas remained silent, knowing that he’d been caught in the act. Not that he was any good at hiding it, his father always was able to tell when his son was up to no good and this was no different.

“I was going to see Abraham about having a sword and some armor made," He confessed.

Jonathan couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "And how do you plan to afford the coin for it?"

"I'll find a way."

While they weren't exactly poor by the common standards, there was no way that he would be able to afford to have a suit of armor made. Not one that was good at least. The best he would be able to afford would be a worn breastplate that had rust on it. Maybe, if he were lucky, he'd also be able to get a sword that he would have to do some work too. A slow start, yes. However, a man's rise to greatness had to begin somewhere. That he was a simple farmer meant little to him, it just meant he would have to work twice as hard.

York was a bustling commune that far exceeded that of nearly every town in England. As one of the largest suppliers of wool, it was an integral source of trade for the country, boosting commerce and relations with neighboring countries. An ecclesiastical province, it was the northern capital of the church of England, where the archbishop oversaw all of its business. There had to be a blacksmith somewhere in town that would take him on, teach him their ways and then he could make his own weapon.

As a child, he had lived on its streets as an orphan and eventually was taken on by a kind old man who had needed help tending to his farms. It had been a life of hard labor, but one that he came to love by the time he was of age. Jonathan had only ever asked that he helped with the farm, kids starving on the streets would have been lucky to be taken in by such a kind man.

"Regardless," Jonathan reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch that jingled with the clanging of gold coins. He tossed it to Thomas, who caught it. "I know you'll go to town whether I give you permission or not. So, I'll just save us both the time and let you go."

Thomas smiled.

He should have known.

Jonathan was no fool, indeed he was not. He knew that his son would find his way into town later in the day and do what he planned to do. Giving him tasks to take care of only succeeded in giving him more time to work at home on the farm. In the end, it worked out well for both of them. Perhaps he would even join his son later in the day at the tavern to enjoy a drink with him.

"Thank you, father." Was all he could think to say, the shock of it all a bit too much for him.

The shock was not from his father allowing him to go, but rather, that he had not had to ask him in the first place. It was one of the few times in his young life that Thomas did not have to argue with him about how he was old enough to make his own decisions. While most fathers dictated their house with an iron fist, Jonathan was lenient in many ways and let Thomas govern himself as all free men did in this world.

"Now go," Jonathan said with a smile. "Before I change my mind."


End file.
